Esmeralda
by thevintagekid
Summary: It is strange to think that a name that I heard two years ago would re-surface into my life again and cause such untold misfortune. And yet, that is exactly what happened to Holmes and myself when a few evenings ago when His Royal highness Antonio Juan Maria Paco Pablo Ferdinand Raul Romero Vamierez the 5th graced our parlour.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: any characters you don't recognise are my own, and i apologise if some of my Spanish is inaccurate, i'm learning :3 I guess you could call this a sequel to my other story Family ties, all though it's not necessary to have read that one :3 Anyway, please read and enjoy :3_

It is strange to think that a name that I heard two years ago would re-surface into my life again and cause such untold misfortune. And yet, that is exactly what happened to Holmes and myself when a few evenings ago when His Royal highness Antonio Juan Maria Paco Pablo Ferdinand Raul Romero Vamierez the 5th graced our parlour asking questions on behalf of his sister; the very same sister who had tried to kill us two year ago.

Holmes, ever keen to accept clients that could pay more than the usual we received, was only too keen to see the man. I had not long returned from my practice when my detective told me to smarten myself up for we had a very special client. He must have been special, I mused, for Holmes for once actually looked presentable. Before long, we were joined by His Highness, who could not have looked more out of place in the miserable grey rain soaked streets of London. I emerged from my own bed chambers, having changed as Holmes had requested, to be greeted by a young man of five and twenty, with clear tanned skin and piercing green eyes. He looked familiar to me, as though I had seen him before and yet I could not recall. He wore a fine suit of cream with a green cravat and dark lenses for his poor eyes.

"Ah, _Buenos tardes, _doctor," the man beamed at me. Although he spoke perfect English, his voice was tinted with a heavy Spanish accent.

"Um, good afternoon…?" I trailed off, not sure at the time who I had been addressing.

Holmes, thank heavens, stepped in for me. "Ah, Watson, may I introduce His Royal Highness Antonio Juan Maria Paco Pablo Ferdinand Raul Romero Vamierez the 5th?"

"It's a pleasure." I replied.

"Such a mouthful, no? I normally go by Antonio." The prince laughed. "But I am not here to discuss which of my names I prefer."

"Quite." My companion agreed.

"Actually, I was hoping that you might be able to find some people for me. On behalf of my sister, Esmeralda."

Esmeralda…why did that name sound so familiar to me? What did the prince say his surname was…Vamierez? His sister was Esmeralda Vamierez? The missing princess who had tried to kill us two years ago? I remembered Holmes showing me a Spanish newspaper a few weeks ago, explaining to me that the princess Esmeralda had been returned to her brother, although the exact details of how her brother had found her or where she had been all this time where not revealed. Holmes had given me a secretive smile, because the two of us knew full well where the princess had been and what she had been doing. It was also around that time that I had been called out to attend my cousin, who her brother and his fiancée had found in an old warehouse bleeding to death from her wrist with a slim sword close by and the princess supposedly lying dead. His highness looked at me.

"_No te preocupes, _Doctor. I do not come here with the intentions of digging up my sister's past. What she did can stay in past. She has started anew now." I breathed a sigh of relief. The prince continued. "Actually, I come to London to ask of services, _se__ñ__or Holmes, _in locating a couple of people for me. I would desire to talk to them and ask them to return to Spain with me, to bring her out of her depression."

"of course, your highness. Who are you looking for exactly?" Holmes smiled, and I knew the smile to mean he was thinking of how much the prince would be paying him.

"She speaks most fondly of them. I am looking for a Laurence Smith, I believe him to be her…how shall we say, lover. In fact I have something I wish to be given to him." The prince reached into the folds of his frock coat and pulled out an envelope. My companion took it. "And a Violeta Rain? I think that is her name, for Esmeralda never told me the English version of her name."

"Violet Rain!" I burst out. He was looking for my cousin?

"Do you know her?" the prince asked me.

"I uh, yes your highness. She is my cousin." I explained.

"Well, I wish you luck. You gentlemen may find me in The Grand, should you find anything to tell me. Good afternoon."

The prince left, and Holmes turned to me.

"Well old boy, isn't this just a trip down memory lane? Shall we go and see your cousin?"

I hadn't the faintest clue how Holmes could be so jovial about that night two years ago when the princess and my cousin, who had been a mere girl of sixteen then, had almost killed us. We hailed a cab to my cousin's residence, a set of rooms not unlike our own, in Cherry Tree Avenue, which until recently she had shared with her brother James. I thought of how my cousin might be faring now, how her wrist was healing, and how her brother was. Holmes and I had attended his wedding to the Landlady's niece and that had been the last I had seen of them for a while. The landlady let us in and showed us up a flight of stairs and to the parlour of Violet Rain. Holmes and I waited in the parlour, whilst the landlady made tea, and my detective soon tired of waiting so he began to explore my cousin's parlour. As is usual when my companion decides to meddle, trouble followed.

Holmes was busy exploring an old desk under the window, his eyes alight with interest, when the door behind him opened. My cousin emerged, only wearing a man's thread bare shirt, and when she saw him going through the drawers on the desk her eyes narrowed. I don't believe she saw me. Silently, she walked over to him so that she was right behind him, and with strength I could scarce fathom, she took hold of my detective and threw him over her shoulder. Holmes could scare believe it either, and he had barely enough time to stand up and register what had happened before she knocked him to the floor again in a blur of quick blows. Holmes was stunned.

"Who are you! What do you want with me?" Violet spat angrily.

"My, it's been a while, hasn't it Miss Rain? I must say, your technique has improved." Holmes replied nonchalantly. My cousin brought her hand hard across his face drawing blood.

"Violet please!" I cried, limping over to the two of them.

Violet looked at me, and before she had chance to recognise me, Holmes had seized the opportunity to flip my cousin to the floor. He leaned over her, pinning her down.

"Now, that wasn't nice. After all, I only came here to talk to you, didn't I Watson?"

I opened my mouth to reply, when the door to the parlour burst open. In the door way stood a redheaded constable of about twenty years of age. He looked at me and then to Holmes and Violet. He threw his uniform jacket over the armchair.

" 'Oo the fuck are you two ?H'an' wot the fucking 'ell is goin' ere?!" he demanded in bold cockney tones.

"Well, constable I believe we could ask you the same things." Holmes replied cooly.

"Yeah, oy'm sure yer could. But I h'aint the one in someone else's ahse oldin their fiancé dahn, am I?" the cockney said. "So get off 'fore oy do some real damage."

I told Holmes to do as he was told for once. I was not setting his nose again. Violet scrambled off the floor and into the constable's arms. He kissed her forehead, telling her to get dressed. My cousin nodded, and when she returned we sat down to the tea the landlady had brought up. The cockney constable glared at Holmes as Violet introduced me to him and him to me. He was her fiancé, Constable Dietrich O'Keefe (although Violet called him Trevor because it was easier to say then his given name) and when Holmes introduced himself, the constable laughed. Had Lestrade tired of him poking his nose? Because unlike that half-witted inspector, his (who happened to be my cousin James) didn't need his help because he knew how to use his brain. Holmes seemed most offended, and I smiled to myself. Not revealing his offence to Constable O'Keefe, my detective lit a cigarette without bothering to ask if he could indulge. He took a drag.

"Actually, Constable, Doctor Watson and I came to speak to miss Rain."

"About what?" Violet asked, sipping tea, her voice devoid of any emotion. I noticed how pale and tired she looked.

"About Esmeralda Vamierez."


	2. Chapter 2

My cousin stared at the detective. Her indigo eyes went wide and glassy, her mouth parted in a perfect o. She brushed her frock coat down (my cousin was in the habit of wearing men's clothes. She preferred them.) and lit up a cigarette. I noticed that she was dressed completely in black; in mourning. She tugged at the mourning band around her arm. I was curious as to who she was in morning for.

"What do you want to know about Emerald?" Violet asked. "Why must you come over here and dig up the past. Show some respect."

Of course. Violet was mourning for the princess. Clearly she had no idea the princess was still alive. Holmes carried on as if he hadn't noticed.

"Her brother, His highness, has asked me to locate you and bring you to him. He wants you to return to Spain with him to cheer his sister up."

Violet gave a high pitched nervous laugh. "Her brother, his highness? Emerald doesn't have a brother! She isn't a princess!" She began to sob hysterically, her fiancé moved closer, but she shook him off. "Emerald is dead and I am the reason! So just let it be!"

The cockney constable took my cousin into his arms, whispering soothing words in both English and German. I glared at Holmes. Had he no regard for the girl's feelings? Obviously not, because he produced a photograph of the Vamierez siblings. He showed it to my cousin, who took it with trembling hands.

"On the contrary, Miss Rain. This photograph was taken no more than two weeks ago. So you see, your friend is very much alive." There was a hint of a smug smile.

"Emerald's alive…?" her voice was barely a whisper. She frowned, as if struggling to take such information in, before her indigo eyes rolled up into her head and she crumpled to the floor.

Both her fiancé and I ran over. Constable O'Keefe took her into his arms and lay her on the chaise-long. Holmes sighed, as though my cousin had somehow inconvenienced him. I loosened her collar and went about attending to her, her fiancé rose from kneeling to meet my detective. His brown eyes held a fierce glow, and I had no desire to meet him in some dingy alley in his native East End. Holmes met his gaze with his own dark eyes.

"Well, fer a great detective yer clearly h'ain't great when h'it comes ter peoples feelin's." the constable told him, and I was inclined to agree. "Yer could see h'it was bovverin' er, but yer still carried on. We don't need yer int'ferin' rahnd ere."

My detective forced a smile and bid his good-byes. The constable's words stung; and I knew them to bother him. There was only one person's feelings Sherlock Holmes cared about; mine. I stayed awhile longer to make sure my cousin was alright, and her fiancé tolerated my presence. Once I was assured that Violet was fine, I rose to leave. The cockney showed me out.

"When my cousin is feeling well again, please tell her to contact me." I handed him my card. The constable took it. " We shall take her to see his highness then."

"Oy will do. But oy'm comin' too. Vi still h'ain't well."

"Of course. Good afternoon."

I left and chose to walk back to my own lodgings. It would allow my companion to calm down after the harsh words of the constable, and I hoped to God he would not be in some form of stupor when I returned. I thought it odd that Constable O'Keefe was so protective over my cousin. Perhaps he did not know that at sixteen Violet was a perfectly trained assassin. Or perhaps he did know, and was trying to protect her from her past; from herself. After all, in the past few months I had been called out to Violet several times. The first was for a gunshot wound in her arm, the second for her wrist when she was bleeding to death from it. It was clear to me that her past was catching up with her, and someone wanted her dead.

….

In a dimly lit old warehouse, he listened to what the children had to tell him. Ah, but they were good children to tell him all that they knew about Miss Violet Rain and her activities. They were hungry enough children to do as he asked without questioning. He reached into the folds of his fine black frock coat and pulled out a few guineas and handed them to the hungry scrawny urchins. They thanked him and ran off to spend their riches. He smiled. This had gotten interesting. Miss Violet Rain had inconvenienced him and his affairs on several occasions, and she had cut him in two when she had been the reason that his dearest Emerald was dead at the hands of their old mistress. So he was going to kill her anyway, but she had given him a gift. She had given him the great detective Sherlock Holmes and his loyal companion who too had inconvenienced him on more than one occasion. Laurence Smith laughed despite himself. He could kill two birds with one stone.


End file.
